- Photo: Adam Wickham
Slice Pizzeria
2719 NE 7th, 287-3645, slicepdx.com
THE OPENING of Slice, a laidback spot next to a dress shop and a mini mart, wasn’t trumpeted across the foodosphere, but its inventive pies don’t need buzz marketing. Without hype, something pretty great is happening at this little slice of NE 7th and Knott.
Every house pizza, each named after a Portland street or neighborhood, does our fair city justice. The Prescott takes the anise flavor of fennel and shocks it with salty prosciutto, sweet peach, fresh mozzarella, and an olive-oil base. Cooked in an electric oven, the crust is puffy and delightfully salty, and holds its assigned ingredients like a champ. It’s available by the ample slice ($4.50), as a whole pizza ($11-24), and by delivery—a rare treat in this town, even for pizza.
The hearty Irvington is like a Sunday dinner on dough, with potatoes, leeks, thyme, mushrooms, bacon, and garlic. The Eliot is a spicy twist on a traditional sausage pie, with chorizo, Mama Lil’s peppers, fresh mozzarella, and red sauce.
The gluten-free crust, made with Bob’s Red Mill flour and $2 extra, failed to rise to the occasion, but it’s serviceable on the Knott Street, with tender roasted cabbage, rosemary, bacon, and onion. Grab a table out front, a massive $5 pour of house red wine, pick a few combos, and nosh on the simple but stunning arugula pistachio salad ($5-7) while you wait.
Fire and Stone
3707 NE Fremont, 719-7195, fireandstonepdx.com
HAD I WRITTEN about Fire and Stone when I initially tried it in January, this would have been a different review. Even with bona fides like owner Jeff Smalley, formerly of Grand Central Bakery, and pizzaiolo Joey Alvarez from Ken’s Artisan Pizza, the first pies from the wood-fired oven were dry, crisp, and uninspiring. Rapini and smoked mozzarella sat in a pool of grease on what amounted to a burnt saltine. A meatball pizza, on that first go-round, had a shocking paucity of… meatball.
But time and seasoning have done a world of good for Fire and Stone—a former convenience store made cheery with bright orange paint and open plate-glass windows. It’s not the best pizza ever, but the wooden booths and tables are packed nightly, mostly with families, and they’re getting the job done. The crust has changed from brittle to chewy, and the topping distribution and quality have been nailed down. The best of the Neapolitan pizzas ($9-15) are the salami, roasted peppers, fresh mozzarella, and grana ($15), or the meaty cremini mushrooms, tomato, capers, oregano, and more salty grana cheese ($12). Don’t forget: This is still wood-fired pizza. The crust is thin and the circumference is small, so order two and tack on a starter of deep-fried stuffed risotto ($6).
